Calico took Miss Muffin to a Halloween maze last night. She had talked of nothing else all day, but it proved disappointing. Long waiting lines were followed by a maze that proved too scary for Miss Muffin and they left without completing the maze.

That’s not the kind of adventure I would enjoy, even if it were feasible to push a wheelchair through the maze. Screaming people jumping out at me in the dark, just isn’t that appealing.
I feel the same way about most amusement park rides. I don’t care to be spun until I am dizzy or feel my heart leap into my throat. If I’m going to be scared, I prefer gentler thrills.

Camping produces that type of environment for me and it doesn’t induce nausea. I wasn’t fond of summer camp as a child, but I did enjoy the evenings. Daytime activities were held near the lake with a large wooden assembly room for meals and rainy day craft activities. In the evening, however, we walked up a narrow dirt road to the campsite. The site contained three huge canvas tents surrounded by towering fir trees. Each night, we had a huge campfire, toasted marshmallows or s’mores, and sang songs for over an hour before bedtime. Sleeping in the canvas tents was my favorite part. I loved snuggling into my sleeping bag, inhaling the scents of pine trees, smoke and canvas, and listening to the night life that surrounded us. With a little imagination, which was never a problem for me, I could envision scenarios that were as scary as I wanted them to be.

I carried that love of camping into adulthood. I spent hours selecting my first tent. Although there were plenty of nylon and polyester tents, it was inevitable that my memories of those canvas tents prevailed. Of course, as an adult camper, I didn’t imagine spooky things outside my tent.